


My secret heart cannot easily speak

by Sagnfreidi



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Arthur isn't oblivious, Asexual Character, Christmas, Community: inceptiversary, Eames is a champ, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Good Intentions, Happy Ending, Inception Big Bang Challenge, Internalized Acephobia, Loneliness, M/M, Mild Seasonal Depression, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, New Years, Pining, Post-Inception, Romance, The team doesn't know Arthur as well as they think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 00:43:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20055253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagnfreidi/pseuds/Sagnfreidi
Summary: Arthur is going talk to Eames, about him and about them, and maybe, perhaps, things will work out between them. That is if the team’s sudden efforts to set the two of them up doesn’t end up becoming a wrecking ball to Arthur’s plans.





	My secret heart cannot easily speak

**Author's Note:**

> So this my contribution to the Inception big bang 2019! It is also my first big bang, as I am relatively new to the fandom. And can I just say how delightful it is to find the fandom so active even nine years after the release of the movie? It’s amazing!
> 
> So this story goes out to all the ace spectrum people out there struggling with Acephobia and feeling weird about themselves. You are lovely and perfect just as you are! Never let anyone tell you differently, not even yourself.
> 
> [ PLEASE CHECK OUT RAINBYOTES’ WONDERFUL ART ](rainbyotes.tumblr.com/post/186678770538/booze)for this big bang exchange. If it doesn’t get you celebrating your ace-ness I don’t know what will! And even if you’re not on the ace spectrum yourself, check it out anyway, because it’s beautiful and happy and everyone should look at something beautiful and happy at least once a day. 
> 
> A huge thank you goes out to [ Estelle ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estelle/pseuds/Estelle), who read this through for me and told me to kill my darlings in the kindest way possible. She also came up with the title, which is from John Hiatt's classic 'Have a little faith in me'. So send her some love!

It became clear very early on that the job wasn’t half as simple as the pitch had made it sound: what should have been a month long job would more likely take three to successfully complete.

Arthur leaned heavily on their client, who ‘graciously’ agreed to triple the pay accordingly.

Given the now rather considerable amount of money on offer, none of the team were inclined to walk away, even if the changed circumstances meant having to work through the holiday season. Still, a collective groan of dissatisfaction ran through the group when Arthur stated the obvious.

Arthur supposed that he was, on the whole, the least affected by the change of plans. He didn’t have children, like Dom did, parents like Ariadne, a girlfriend like Yusuf or even just fixed Christmas plans with a friend like Eames. There was no one expecting him to show up anywhere.

On the other hand, the fact that they would now get to spend Christmas together actually changed Arthur’s prospects quite a bit. He couldn’t even remember when he last spent Christmas with people he honestly liked.

(That was a lie: it had been three years ago. Dom had been on the run and a complete mess from grief and missing his children. Arthur just preferred to forget the whole thing.)

So spending Christmas with people he for most part considered friends was actually not unpleasant, even if it was just to work. He categorically refused to think it sad and pathetic, because he was neither a sad nor pathetic person.

He might however have to cede that point when Dom put his foot down and insisted on going home for Christmas and Arthur felt a distinct surge of disappointment that he couldn’t quash, even if he kept his face entirely neutral as Dom spoke.

“I’ve missed far too much to miss such a major holiday with the kids. It’s bad enough that the job is getting dragged out.” Dom argued. Ariadne nodded, unsurprisingly backing Dom up. And it wasn’t like Arthur disagreed _per_ _se_, it was just that for a moment his Christmas had looked like it might be different from the ones that had come before.

“The job will only drag out further if we aren’t actually here to do it.” Arthur argued resentfully and then chastised himself for being so childish.

“No one is expecting us to work every day for three months except you, Arthur.” Dom snapped. Which was rich coming from Dom, who had taken Arthur’s help on endless back-to-back jobs for granted back when he was on the run, never even thanking him for being there through his shitshow. Arthur didn’t feel childish for still being bitter about that.

But Arthur wasn’t going to bring that up. He could be the bigger man.

“We can’t take a long vacation while on the client’s dime. You can have three days. That’s it.” Arthur tried to sound reasonable, but he wasn’t sure if he came off anything other than petty.

“Five.” Dom countered. Looking at the rest of the team, Arthur knew that he wasn’t going to win this one, not with the way Ariadne looked ready to leap to Dom’s defense and Yusuf had a sullen look of mutiny about him. Eames was harder to get a read on, but considering his plans to go back to England, Arthur figured he was as keen to get the days off as the rest and just better at projecting a calm façade.

“Fine. But it’s back to work as usual on the 28th.” What was five days anyway? Nothing at all, going by the put-upon expressions on the others’ faces as they all reluctantly nodded. Arthur was used to being alone for far longer stretches of time than five days. It didn’t matter that it was Christmas. For him it would just be another five days, which was. Fine. Whatever.

With the practicalities taken care of , the team focused their attention on the job as October became November, bringing with it the chill of winter. The nights became longer, and Arthur had to start leaving earlier for work in order to scrape ice off the windows of his car.

It wasn’t until December was upon them that the upcoming Christmas break started to become a topic of conversation again, but inevitably the talk turned to holiday plans and family traditions, accompanied by the cheerful Christmas songs Ariadne played by her work-station.

“We’ll go buy a tree when I get there. We’ll make a day out of it, picking the tree and then decorate it. Philippa is always pretty determined about how it should be done. It won’t be long until she takes over the decorating entirely and we won’t be allowed near the tree, I’m sure.” This was accompanied by a breathy laugh from Dom who clearly adored his daughter’s precociousness.

“My mom will drag me to Church, and they’ll all ask me if I have a ‘special someone’ and on an unrelated note, did I know that it was better to have children before turning thirty? But then again, they’ll also feed me tons of homemade goods, so I suppose the trade-off is acceptable.” Ariadne told them with wry humor.

“I believe we will be spending it with Bishara’s family. They are nice, truly, if a bit energetic. I would have liked a day or two alone with my love, but, alas, that is not to be.” Yusuf supplied wistfully.

“Well, we eat a lot of food, and then on boxing day we drink some beers and enjoy the left-overs. There’s always a game on, so we’ll probably watch that.” Eames said when asked.

Arthur didn’t say anything. No one asked him either. Maybe they all knew that he had nothing to say and were saving him from having to spell it out. Maybe they’d gotten so used to thinking of him as a work automaton that they didn’t consider that he even could have Christmas plans. Arthur wasn’t sure which explanation he liked better, so he just kept his head down and focused on his research.

Arthur usually arrived first in the morning , and this day was no different. He settled down by his desk and opened his laptop, checking his emails as he enjoyed his first cup of coffee.

He liked his morning routine, having something like half an hour to himself where he could settle into a productive frame of mind. He liked the office space in the morning, still a little chilly as he waited for the heaters to start working, empty but somehow anticipating the rest of the team filling it with bustle and chatter and music from the radio.

Arthur looked up when the door opened and let Eames in. He was red-cheeked and bright-eyed from the cold outside, and he lit up in a smile upon seeing Arthur that made him feel pleasantly warm.

“Good morning, Eames.” Arthur said, hoping he sounded more casual than he felt.

“Good morning, darling!” Eames called back, divesting himself of gloves, scarf and coat. A shame, Arthur thought drily, because his outer layer had been nice shades of navy and dark grey so as to not stand out on the street where he might be followed, whereas his sweater was one of those obnoxious and unspeakably ugly Christmas ones.

Arthur made no effort to hide his distaste for the garment as Eames made his way over to him, but it didn’t matter. Eames was as impervious as ever where sartorial critique was concerned, and just grinned as he puffed out his chest ridiculously, showing off. It made him look broader than he already was and sort of huggable. The stupid sweater even looked soft.

Arthur suddenly realized that he was staring at his coworkers chest and that Eames was grinning in a knowing way that made Arthur feel a little uncomfortable and a lot embarrassed.

“Can I help you with something, or did you just come over here to further blind me with that sweater?” Arthur asked, feigning cool as Eames stopped next to his seat. Eames laughed briefly, but surprisingly kept from quipping back like he usually did. Instead his face had taken on a strangely nervous expression.

“Look. I know this is rather last minute and I ought to have asked earlier, but I wasn’t sure if you actually had plans or if I would be intruding or anything. But, well. I thought I should at least say that you could… that is, if you want to and don’t have anything else planned, you’d be welcome to come with me to England.” Eames said. Arthur was honestly at a loss for words. Eames was right that it was last minute: Eames was flying off two nights later.

“I thought you were going to celebrate with your friend? Won’t that be a little… awkward?” Arthur was at a loss of anything better to say, his brain still reeling from this unexpected turn of events.

“Chris doesn’t mind, he says the more the merrier. And I don’t know if you can even get a flight, and I definitely don’t think there’ll be anything available in terms of hotels in Hilgay – that’s the town’s name, Arthur, get your mind out of the gutter – but you’re more than welcome to share with me, if you want to come.” Eames said, winking at Arthur at the joke of the town name.

Arthur should at this point be saying yes and already be working on finding a ticket. Because _of course_ did he want to spend Christmas with Eames.

Arthur had long since realized that he was in love with the forger (because unlike what people seemed to think, he was actually pretty well attuned to his own feelings. It was other people’s feelings that confused him.) And being invited to spend Christmas with Eames, in England, with Eames oldest friend – that was something alright, Arthur got that even with his limited understanding of other people’s motivations.

But what was actually happening was that Arthur was quietly panicking. Because ‘get your mind out of the gutter’ with a wink followed up by ‘you can share with me’ sounded like expectations of a particular kind, to say nothing of the double entendre he’d thrown in at the end.

Of course Eames would never _demand_ anything of Arthur, he wasn’t that kind of guy, but he would hope and then he would be disappointed, and things would get awkward.

They’d never talked about this, about them and if they could be something more. Five days spend either on a plane or with a busy Christmas schedule and a stranger as third wheel left no real time to have that conversation, but four nights was an infinity to try and dodge the subject. It was an actual nightmare to contemplate.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” Was what Arthur blurted out. Eames looked dejected but hid it quickly. Not quickly enough for Arthur to not see it. He immediately felt terrible, regret filling him like a vicious tidal wave.

“Oh. That’s… Well, that’s alright. Carry on then.” Eames said, turning to leave.

“Eames...” Arthur started, wishing that this wasn’t so complicated, that he wasn’t so weird about all this. But he genuinely couldn’t see going with Eames ending well.

“Thanks for offering.” Arthur finished, a little lamely, hoping that he hadn’t burned all his bridges by turning Eames’ offer down. Eames half-smiled and then quickly walked over to his desk. He didn’t look at Arthur for the rest of the day.

Three days later, Arthur arrived at the old house they used as their office and sat down by his desk like he always did. But the routine felt different this morning: the whole room felt different. The silence seemed heavier, not anticipating anything because the rest of the team had left for their families the night before. The five days of being alone suddenly seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of Arthur.

It was stupid. It would be over before he knew it. What sort of wimp was he that he couldn’t even be alone for less than a week? It made no sense. He had gotten through Christmas alone for the past several years, and it was his own fault he was going to be alone anyway: he could have just taken Eames up on his offer.

Arthur was seriously starting to regret that he hadn’t accepted Eames’ invitation.

Especially because Eames had clearly taken his refusal to come with him to England as an overall rejection. The last two days Eames had avoided him as much as possible, only speaking to him when the job demanded it, making sure there was always one other person involved in the conversation if it couldn’t be avoided and keeping his distance.

It was awful.

But there was nothing Arthur could do about it right now, other than hope that Christmas with his friend would cheer Eames sufficiently that he forgave Arthur. Even if he didn’t, Arthur could do anything about it until Eames came back. Arthur would be better off trying to forget about the whole mess and focus on getting as much work done as possible now that he had the house to himself.

Christmas morning dawned crisp and cold . The first tentative rays of sun snuck past Arthur’s bedroom curtains at half past eight and woke him up. He lay there for a while, staring at the light hitting the dusty brown curtains. Everything was quiet. There was no sound of traffic or people or even birds. Arthur might as well have been the only living creature left on the planet.

After a while, Arthur managed to rouse himself and get up and into the shower. The small, dark stall did little to wake him up, in spite of the shower having fairly decent water pressure. It was a little better to get back in the bedroom where the sun was shining brightly through the windows.

He got dressed mechanically: underwear, socks, undershirt, pants, shirt, suspenders. He hesitated. Wearing suspenders was already a sort of self-indulgence, but even with the firm pressure of the suspenders against his shoulders and chest he still felt drifting and lost. Unanchored. With a sigh of defeat, he reached for a vest too, berating himself for overdressing and halfway imagining Eames’ inevitable commentary before he realized that Eames was in England and he was alone, so it really didn’t matter what he wore. No one was going to see anyway. The thought didn’t help his mood much.

He grabbed his stuff and made it as far as the car. And then he sat there for a long while, staring out the windscreen on the empty street ahead of him. The weather seemed to almost mock him: bright and beautiful. He was just so very tired.

He could just go back to bed. What would it matter anyway? No one was expecting him to work. No one would notice if he did or didn’t. No one was waiting for him. And the thought of sitting all day – Christmas day – in the empty old house seemed almost unbearable. Hiding away under his blanket seemed like a much better alternative.

Only Arthur knew himself. It wasn’t his first Christmas alone, so he’d been through this before. Lying in bed all day might sound alluring, and it might even feel good at first. But then tomorrow would become twice as unbearable. The urge to just stay where he was would grow, and once the circle started, it was unlikely that he’d manage to get himself back to sorts before the return of his team. And he couldn’t let them know just how miserable and lonely he actually felt.

Even more so because it was his own fault: he could have just accepted Eames’ invitation. He’d been the idiot who’d panicked and said no. Why had he even done that? Eames was a gentleman; he wouldn’t have pressured Arthur for anything. It would have been fine, and they could have talked once they were back and had the privacy, and just enjoyed a nice time together while in the UK. Instead Arthur was heading for work alone on Christmas day.

Arthur realized that he’d been sitting in his cold car for rather a long time when he tightened his grip on the steering wheel and his fingers ached with the cold. Whatever else he was doing, he needed to stop sitting broodingly in a car in ten degrees. Resolutely he turned the car on and started driving. He didn’t much care where he was going, as long as it wasn’t the house they used as HQ.

Driving through the residential area, he spotted more than one kid playing around in the thin layer of frozen snow in their front yard, valiantly trying to make the snow stick together in snowballs. They mostly managed to throw handfuls of icy powder and dirt at one another. The children were grinning none the less and the adult were standing around chatting or helping. The sense of family and togetherness was everywhere. It made Arthur make a beeline for one of the major roads out of the city.

The highway was blessedly free of family feelings with only a few other cars keeping Arthur company. It was nice. Out here he could almost imagine it was just another day. Clear skies and a frozen landscape stretched out before him, and for a few minutes his mind was blessedly as clear as the sky.

It couldn’t last for long, of course. Arthur wasn’t nearly Zen enough to maintain not thinking for very long at a time, and the low buzz of thoughts grew louder and louder: that he needed to hack into the surveillance tapes of their local supermarket to erase all traces of the team being there, his preliminary findings on the credit statements from the mark’s company, if Dom and the kids were doing okay or if they were missing Mal too much, what Eames was doing. He paused there, thoughts of the Forger inevitably filling his mind. Was he happy? Was he thinking of Arthur at all?

He quickly put that thought aside as pointlessly maudlin. Eames was probably busy enjoying his Christmas. Arthur had no idea what British Christmas traditions consisted of, but he assumed that they had presents too, a tree, maybe Christmas pudding or some other kind of weird British foodstuff. It would be afternoon over there already, so maybe they were busy with activities, or maybe they were hanging around talking. Arthur could imagine it: Eames leaned back in a couch – a sofa – in an easy sprawl, a cup of something warm steaming on the low table in front of him. In Arthur’s imagination, Eames was laughing, low and honest.

And Arthur couldn’t help thinking about being in that sofa with him, leaning as much against Eames’ sturdy frame as the sofa, feeling the low rumble of his voice and laughter against where they were pressed together. Maybe Eames would have an arm around Arthur. Maybe he would cart his fingers through Arthur’s hair. He shivered at the phantom sensation, longing filling his chest with sharp pain. His vision had gone blurry and he realized that he was very lucky that the traffic was as it was, since he hadn’t been paying attention for several minutes.

He cleared his throat, a loud sound in the empty car, and forced himself to focus on the road again by meticulously reading the signs by the side of the road. One of them was for the airport. A wild thought occurred to Arthur: he could go to Eames. He could just get on a plane and go. He knew the address – in case of emergencies – he could go there. He’d been invited, after all, and Arthur wasn’t questioning that Eames wanted him there. That much had been obvious from Eames’ dejected attitude in the wake of Arthur’s refusal. But Arthur could go there, and then he wouldn’t have to imagine how Eames was spending his Christmas, he’d be there to know for sure. It would also erase any notion that Arthur wasn’t interested in Eames. It was the sort of grand gesture they did in movies, wasn’t it?

Arthur could imagine it, ringing the door bell, the surprise on Eames’ face giving way to happiness as he realized who was there. There’d be a kiss then, probably, and that was okay, he could do that, probably.

But then there would still be sharing a bed, and expectations ratcheted up by a lot by Arthur’s gesture, and that would force a them to have the talk about the terms and conditions that Arthur came with. And Eames – who had made more innuendoes and given Arthur more lewd looks than Arthur knew to count – Eames would probably not want to agree to those terms and conditions. And then Arthur would be in England, awkward and stuck.

And even if Eames didn’t flat out tell Arthur no, Arthur still couldn’t imagine that Eames would want the sort of relationship that Arthur was interested in. Normal people didn’t, after all. The thought of how excruciating it would be with that hanging between them had Arthur drive right past the exit to the airport without a second look.

The morning of the 28th came with the worst weather of the season yet: a freeze fog was hanging in the air, making it almost painful to breathe as Arthur stepped out of his house and swallowing whatever light there was. But in spite of the gloomy weather, Arthur was more cheerful than he’d been the entire holiday. Probably because today marked the end of the vacation for the team. Everyone would be back today, most of them having flown back during the night. Only Yusuf would be arriving late, his plane not landing until after noon, but then Arthur was honest enough with himself to know that it wasn’t really Yusuf he was looking forward to seeing.

Arthur arrived at the empty house and turned on the heat, eagerly anticipating the arrival of his teammates even as he calmly sat down and checked his mail.

International crime didn’t stop in deference to the holiday season, but there was a downtick in the amount of correspondence Arthur had to see to. It was still enough to keep him busy until Dom and Ariadne arrived together.

“Hi Arthur! My car broke down halfway from the airport, can you believe it? Luckily Cobb could pick me up.” Ariadne exclaimed, cheeks flushed from the cold or from embarrassment, Arthur couldn’t tell.

“Did you leave it somewhere? Do you need to get it towed?” Arthur asked, fingers reaching for his phone out of habit. Ariadne smiled brightly at him.

“No, I already called someone, so it’s fine. But thank you.” Ariadne said. Arthur would have said something, but he was interrupted by another voice.

“You really shouldn’t deprive our ever-efficient point man from getting a chance to work his magic. You’ll make him feel superfluous.” Eames said. Arthur knew that he should take at least mock offense to the forger’s words, but quite frankly he was too happy at seeing Eames again; something akin to relief filling him with the Forger standing in front of him again.

“Eames!” Ariadne squealed enthusiastically and threw herself at him in a huge hug. Eames staggered for a moment before righting himself under her weight.

“Hullo there, Ariadne.” He said fondly as she dislodged herself, and then turned to nod at Dom and Arthur. Arthur did not feel jealous that Ariadne got a hug while he got a nod. That would be silly.

“Yusuf won’t be here until after lunch, so we should go ahead and talk about where we’re at straight away. I’ll fill Yusuf in when he gets here.” Arthur suggested, which was met with nods from the others, and they convened around the conference table in the middle of the room. Once everyone was supplied with coffee, they started.

Dom had clearly not been able to put aside all thoughts of work while on vacation, because he presented several possible strategies and ideas. He clearly hadn’t worked on it beyond abstract ideas, and a lot of it would probably end up scrapped, especially as Arthur presented them with new research. He handed out folders that compiled the work from the days that he had managed to get something done other than feeling sorry for himself, and Ariadne whistled.

“Wow! How have you even had time to do this?” She asked as she leafed through it. Arthur snorted.

“It’s amazing how much I can get done when I don’t have you to contend with.” Arthur said, intending it to be lightly teasing.

“You’ve been here working?” It wasn’t until Eames’ incredulous and slightly hurt words that Arthur realized that he’d just made a big mistake.

“I…” Arthur had no idea what to say to make this better. _Lie, you idiot!_ Part of his brain cried, but Arthur didn’t have any lie to offer that wouldn’t sound just like what it was. Dom and Ariadne were looking back and forth between the two of them, tension crackling in the air.

“No. That’s. That’s fine. You don’t… It’s fine. About this here, it seems like we’re agreeing that it has to be the brother I forge.” Eames said, forcibly changing the subject back to work as he pointed at a page of Arthur’s research.

“Eames,” Arthur started. Eames shot him one very cold look.

“No. Now about the forge.” He was clearly not going to engage with Arthur any further, and Arthur couldn’t think of anything to say that would make this better. At least not with Dom and Ariadne sitting there like they were, and reluctantly he let the conversation turn back to work, but the atmosphere was tense and stilted for the rest of the meeting.

He should have taken the weather as an omen, Arthur thought morosely as he watched Eames determinately making his way away from him without making eye contact.

Things didn't get bette r after that. Not even sleeping on it had Eames in a more conciliatory mood. Every attempt at conversation Arthur made was met with one-word evasive answers and quick exits. It was disheartening.

Arthur had never meant to make Eames think that he didn't care for him, but Arthur could see with painful clarity how it had happened. If it had been the other way around – if Eames had been the one to brush off his Christmas invitation and then made it obvious that he hadn't had alternate plans, that working alone over Christmas was preferable to spending it with him – then Arthur would have thought that Eames didn't reciprocate his feelings too. Never mind that it wasn't what Arthur had meant: it was what he'd conveyed.

So Arthur understood where Eames was coming from and why he was distancing himself, but it was almost physically painful to watch Eames stop himself short and shy away from a touch, a joke or an endearment. Most of all Arthur missed Eames brilliant smile, the one he'd worn when seeing him that morning before Arthur fucked everything up. He missed Eames, period. Which was so dumb, because he was right there, not twenty feet away.

And Arthur wasn’t stupid. He knew that this mess was his fault, and that unless he wanted to botch up his relationship, such as it was, with Eames forever then he’d have to _do _something. He supposed that if he’d been different, he’d simply have walked over to Eames and kissed him and then things would have solved themselves in that magical mystery way of when romcoms cut away to the morning after.

But Arthur wasn’t different, no matter what he wished for, and his mind was as unwilling to indulge in that in-between scenes as the romcom. So really, what he’d have to do was talk to Eames. Which was scary as hell. But he’d just have to man up and figure out a time to do it, which at this point seemed to come down to a time when Eames would allow him close enough to even say anything beyond the first word. Until then he’d better focus on doing his job.

Arthur managed so well that he only realized how much time had passed when Ariadne called out to Yusuf through the room.

“You coming, Yusuf? We’re leaving now if want a ride.” Yusuf had been treated to Ariadne’s tale of woe regarding her car when he got in yesterday and had then asked if could hitch a ride as well since he didn’t like driving on the ice slick roads. Dom had of course agreed, so now the three of them were carpooling. Arthur had nothing against this apart from the fact that it left him alone with Eames.

Arthur watched as Yusuf shuffled to gather his notes in a semblance of order before following Ariadne through the door with a distracted ‘bye’ thrown over his shoulder at the two of them. Then they were alone.

Arthur looked at Eames, who was studiously avoiding looking back at him.

“Eames.” Arthur started.

“Goodness, will you look at the time? I’d better get going too. Have a good evening.” Eames said and quickly got up, grabbing his bag and practically fleeing the scene.

Arthur supposed that he could have forced Eames to stop and listen to him. But, well. Arthur wasn’t actually that keen on the conversation himself.

When the next morning brought with it a bit of sunshine, Arthur couldn’t help but hope that it meant that things would be changing for the better with Eames too. It was beyond idiotic to attribute such things to the weather, but Arthur needed all the bolstering he could get. After yesterday’s failure at getting to talk to Eames, he really needed to think about how he was going to achieve it, especially as Eames was still ignoring him like he was getting paid to do it.

So it would take some planning. Arthur couldn’t count on getting Eames alone and just blurt out something to the effect of _I’m in love with you, please don’t hate me?_ But the more Arthur thought out scenarios for having the conversation, the more he dreaded the prospect.

The best case scenario seemed to be that Eames accepted that Arthur didn’t set out to hurt him and that they might resume an at least not outright hostile relationship.

But what if he got mad? What if he blamed Arthur for leading him on? What if he wouldn’t ever talk with Arthur again or work with him or see him at all? It left Arthur cold and scared and feeling like he couldn’t breathe.

It was through sheer force of will that he calmed down. He was already getting that result by not talking to Eames. So it obviously had to happen. It was just a question of when.

“Hey guys? Can we talk about something for a sec?” Ariadne called out. Arthur looked up at her.

“What’s up?” Dom asked her.

“You all realize that tomorrow is New Year’s Eve?” Ariadne asked.

“Yes, Ariadne, thank you for that piece of information.” Eames said. The words sent a pang of longing through Arthur. It used to be him that elicited Eames’ snide remarks and banter. Ariadne, for her part, was undeterred.

“So, we should celebrate. The four of us, those cheap crackers and a truckload of booze!” Ariadne said brightly.

Usually, Arthur would have put in a token protest and then negotiated the amounts of liquor down to a sensible level. But it occurred to him that this did in fact provide him with just the sort of chance he’d been looking for: Arthur would have a legitimate excuse for getting himself some liquid courage, and Eames would be softened with booze and so more likely to listen (even if it also made him more likely to sucker punch Arthur when he was done explaining, but then that was a chance Arthur would have to take.)

“I think that sounds like a good idea.” He said. The entire team turned to look at him incredulously. Arthur felt a bit self-conscious.

“What? It is.” Arthur finished weakly. Ariadne seemed to gather herself.

“See? Even Arthur thinks we should do it!” She said. Eames nodded slowly.

“Sure. Why the hell not. God knows I could use a drink.” The last was muttered.

“I’ll mix the drinks.” Yusuf agreed, and just like that it was decided. All Arthur could do was cross his fingers and hope for the best.

Arthur might have underestimated what Ariadne meant when she said they were celebrating New Year’s. He’d thought that the preparations would mostly consist of one of them going out to buy whatever quantities of alcohol necessary, but apparently Ariadne was all set on decorating.

“Is this really necessary?” He asked as Ariadne hang shiny silver garlands everywhere, abandoning any pretense of working.

“It really, really is, Arthur.” She said seriously and put a handful of glittery confetti all over his desk. Arthur frowned at the mess.

“I’m docking your pay.” He said spitefully as he shook glitter off of his moleskin.

“You do that.” She said sagely, not at all bothered, and then continued to give Eames’ desk the same treatment. Eames of course delighted in the sparkly addition, and Arthur almost forgave Ariadne the crime of putting glimmer everywhere when he saw the smile on Eames’ face.

Arthur almost put his foot down when Ariadne threw them all out at just past four.

“I’ve got things to do!” He exclaimed.

“They’ll still be here tomorrow.” She said, impervious to Arthur’s glare.

“Why do we need to leave, we’ll be back here in two hours anyway?” Arthur asked.

“Because we need to finish decorating, and I don’t want you sneaking a peak! And anyway, you need to get dressed.” She said, eying his otherwise immaculate outfit. Arthur would have argued further, but, well. Just because he didn’t want to sleep with Eames didn’t mean that he didn’t want Eames to think that he looked good. With a final show of ill-grace, he turned and left.

“I’ll help you.” Arthur heard Eames offer behind him.

“Oh no. Yusuf already called dibs. And anyway, you need to get dressed even more than Arthur.” She said. Arthur couldn’t help but smile a little, but quickly left rather than staying to hear Eames’ answer. He didn’t want to get caught up in an awkward exit alongside Eames.

Arthur took care picking out his outfit . It had to be the perfect mix of soft enough to be approachable and stiff enough not to lead anyone on. It was, in short, an impossible task and while Arthur did his best, dressing in a dark blue suit with a cream silk tie, he wasn’t at all sure he managed to say anything with his outfit other than stuck in the past century. But it was the best he could do, so it would have to do.

His stomach was a flutter of nerves as he got out in the car and left for the party. He was a bit early, but then he couldn’t have brought himself to wait at home any longer. He half considered driving around the block an extra time, but then that did seem a bit stupid. So he parked in his usual spot, resigned to ordering a cab home, and made it inside.

The entire room was sparkling. Ariadne and Yusuf had apparently wasted no time in covering every surface with glitter of some kind. Their desks and various work-related paraphernalia had been moved to the back of the room, and instead the two party planners had somehow managed to get their hands on a bunch of throw pillows and blankets which were arranged in a loose circle in the middle of the room. To one side was a low table with a truly obscene amount of alcohol, considering that they were only five people attending. In the middle was an offering of take-away dinner. He looked at Ariadne who was in a loose black dress.

“You wanted me to get dressed up to sit on the floor?” He groaned. Ariadne grinned unrepentantly.

“You’ll thank me.” She said and Arthur briefly wondered if he should be worried but pushed the thought aside as he was ushered to one of the pillows and offered a drink from Yusuf. Arthur eyed the innocently pale concoction suspiciously, but ultimately decided that it didn’t matter what was in it as long as it got him buzzed. He was pleasantly surprised by it tasting like margarita with champagne in it. Judging from Yusuf’s self-satisfied expression he’d caught Arthur’s reaction.

“It’s good, no? Learned it from an ex-girlfriend. About the only good thing that came from that relationship.” Yusuf grinned and Arthur allowed himself to smile back, forgetting for a moment his own nerves.

He was reminded when the door opened, but it was only Dom, and while Ariadne was clearly happy to see him and guide him to a seat next to her, Arthur couldn’t help but feel a bit deflated. He tried to distract himself by wondering if Ariadne was making a move on Dom, but he couldn’t actually say one way or another. Arthur had never quite understood the relationship between the two. The closest he’d come was ‘complicated, but overall friendly’.

And just as he was getting distracted, Eames did arrive. He looked. Well, he looked beautiful. He was wearing a salmon colored shirt with stripes that had no right to flatter him, but it did. For all that the shirt was big and loose, Eames sheer amount muscle was straining against the sleeves and part of the chest. Arthur had always been fascinated by the dichotomy between Eames’ physical strength and how gentle usually was. It made his size comforting rather than intimidating. He looked hot too. Warm, that was, and Arthur was so often running cold. The idea of crawling into Eames’ arms and getting nice and toasty there was almost dizzying.

Arthur pulled himself together when he realized that Eames was looking at him with a confused look. Probably because Arthur was staring at his chest like an idiot. He could feel himself blush and quickly busied himself emptying his drink. Stupid, so stupid. This was complicated enough without giving Eames the wrong idea while he was at it. Well, more of a wrong idea than he already had. The thought dragged his mood down, and he was quiet through most of the dinner.

Ariadne frequently tried to engage him in the conversation, but Arthur was too nervous to let go. Thankfully there was a steady supply of drinks from Yusuf, who was sitting on his right and was mercifully keeping his glass full.

By the time they'd finished dinner, Arthur was well on his way to being sloshed, which he realized when he went to take a leak. His sense of balance seemed to be just a little off, and everything had gone a little fuzzy at the edges. He splashed some water in his face after finishing his business, reminding himself as sternly as he could that he needed to be at least a little sober to have the sort of conversation he was going for with Eames.

He still had to find a reason to pull Eames aside. Maybe later, he could suggest they go look at the firework. It was a nice clear night, so the excuse held. He just needed to keep himself an approximation of sober until midnight then. And keep Eames that way as well, he thought as he reentered the living room space they were using as office and now party venue where the others were sitting. Eames was listing a little to the right, and it might be a trick, but it might also be that he was getting very drunk too. It would be no good if Eames was too drunk to keep a conversation together. 

Arthur made a detour to the kitchen where he found a pitcher and filled it with water, which he brought back to their floor seating.

"No, what are you doing? Is that water?" Ariadne whined as she spotted him.

"Yes. Have a glass." Arthur instructed, ruthlessly filling everyone's glasses with water. She stared mutinously at him, but he met her eyes straight on until she drank her water. Yusuf laughed at the cowed girl until Arthur turned to him.

"You too. All of you better drink up." Arthur demanded.

"Buzzkill." Ariadne complained.

"Literally." Eames mumbled, finishing his own water. Arthur didn't know what to think about it. It was the first thing Eames had said to him for days, indirect as it was. It left Arthur with a pretty ambivalent feeling. He tried to cover it as best he could.

"It's only eight. Excuse me for wanting to last till midnight." He said. Yusuf patted his arm.

"You're taking care of us. That's nice. Now have another drink." He said and poured a fresh round of drinks for them. Ariadne cheered and downed half of hers in one go.

"You know what we should do? We should play a game." Yusuf said. Eames leaned forward, interestedly.

"What did you have in mind?" He asked.

"I'm not playing cards with you. You cheat." Yusuf complained at the forger. Eames made a dramatic 'who, me?' gesture.

"I would never." He declared.

"You definitely would. Let's play something you can't cheat at." Ariadne said. Eames huffed.

"There's no such thing as a game you can't cheat at." He argued.

"Yes there is, because I come prepared for just this. Hang on a moment." She said and made it over to where her desk was stashed against the wall on slightly wobbly legs. She gave a triumphant sound and then returned with two bowls. She sat down less than gracefully as she frantically held on to the two bowls, but she made it with minimal collateral damage and placed them in the center of their circle. They were, apparently, filled with folded pieces of paper.

"I present to you: truth or dare !" Ariadne said with a flourish. Arthur had one immediate and definitive thought about that announcement: _shit_.

This could not end well. Arthur has had more than enough humiliating encounters with party games of this type. At best he came off as simply unadventurous, at worst a complete killjoy and liar to boot, because who hadn’t made it past second base at his age? Come on, no reason to lie about something like this, they weren’t going to judge. What, did he think he was better than them or something? Was he saving himself for marriage? Telling people that he wasn’t interested had, on one occasion, lead to a man cornering him afterwards and forcing himself onto him, telling him that he just hadn’t met the right guy yet.

Why this man thought that forcing himself onto Arthur would in any way make him ‘the one’, even if Arthur had been waiting for that, Arthur didn’t know. His response, when a simple ‘back off’ didn’t cut it, was to twist the guy’s arm high up his back and bash his head against the nearest surface, which happened to be a wall. That hadn’t exactly done anything to endear him to the rest of the party, but Arthur couldn’t have cared less. He was out of there within five minutes and hadn’t talked to any of them again since.

And while he couldn’t imagine anyone here acting like that, he had already been called a buzzkill once tonight. And these weren’t people he could just walk out on and never see again. Not only were they in the middle of a job together, this team also consisted of the only people in the business he would call friends. He didn’t want to have to deal with the contempt and disbelief he was likely to be met with.

“I’m sitting this one out.” He said, as firmly as his blood alcohol level would allow.

“Nu-uh, Arthur! I’ve slaved over these questions all afternoon!” Ariadne complained. Arthur knew that that was a patent lie.

“Really? So the decorations did themselves while you wrote questions?” He asked. She huffed.

“No, Yusuf did the decorations while I copied and printed and… Look, it’s not up for debate. You’re playing.” She said, her eyes shining perilously like she might burst out crying if Arthur kept saying no.

“Come on, Arthur. Let’s just play a couple of rounds.” Cobb said, eyeing Ariadne warily. Clearly he was keen to avoid the water works.

“I…” Arthur started.

“Excellent! Here, have another drink too. Ariadne, which bowl is what?” Yusuf bowled over what Arthur was about to say, pouring Arthur a drink that was generous on the gin. Meanwhile, Ariadne’s smile had been restored to full force, and Arthur had the distinct feeling that he’d been played.

“Right, the blue bowl is for the truth questions. The red is for the dares. Who wants to go first?” She asked. Eames, who had been silent until then, volunteered to draw first. He went to pick a piece from the red bowl, then stopped.

“Should I say who it’s for before or after I’ve read it?” Eames asked. Ariadne pondered this for a moment.

“After, I guess. That way there’ll be a bit of strategy to it even if we’re not making up the questions ourselves.” She decided.

“Alright.” Eames agreed and picked up a folded note from the dare bowl. He squinted a bit reading it, a clear sign that he wasn’t exactly sober.

“This one’s for you, Yusuf: depict a human life through interpretive dance.” The forger said with a smirk. Yusuf groaned but got up gamely enough. Ariadne whooped and reached back to the radio behind her to crank up the music as loud as it could go on the tinny speakers.

Yusuf wasn’t exactly a dancer, nor did he seem to have any sense of rhythm, but it did look hilarious as he crawled around on the floor and threw a mock temper tantrum in what Arthur assumed was supposed to depict childhood. He got up to his knees and tried to run around, which looked unbelievably stupid with his hair flopping back and forth while he got pretty much nowhere at all. Ariadne was howling with laughter and Yusuf got up from the floor, glancing and acting embarrassed around and imaginary person, shuffling his foot against the ground, smiling mock-sweetly and pressing a hand against his cheek. Then he pretended to kiss the person, to Ariadne’s vociferous delight, and then finally grabbed ahold of the imaginary person’s hips and did a lewd thrusting motion that had Arthur blushing to the root of his hair and looking away in discomfort while the rest of the team howled with laughter and catcalled the chemist.

Arthur kept his gaze firmly down and only looked back up when the others started clapping. Yusuf was apparently done and was sitting back down. Arthur clapped as well, hoping that no one had noticed his discomfort.

It didn’t seem like it, because nobody paused to comment, at least not on Arthur.

“From childhood to first love to old age, that was beautiful, Yusuf.” Ariadne said, raising her glass at him. Yusuf was busy wiping sweat off his brow.

“Bloody exhausting is what it was.” He said, but he grinned and raised his own glass before reaching for a slip from the truth bowl. He took another sip of his drink before clearing his throat, still a little out of breath from his performance.

“This one goes to Dom. Have you ever tried to take a sexy picture of yourself?” He asked. Ariadne ooh’ed like it was a terribly exciting question while Eames huffed, but whether with disdain or in amusement, Arthur couldn’t tell. Dom was going a little red, which Arthur supposed was amusing, but he couldn’t really get excited about the question.

“I, uh, _I_ haven’t.” He said, a bit too much emphasis on the ‘I’. Eames leaned forward.

“Who did take the pictures, then? Mal?” He asked interestedly.

“Ah. No. It was, well, it was all very tasteful, with a real photographer.” Dom said, clearly flustered.

“No way! You had a real photographer take dirty pictures of you? Dom! That’s even worse than if you’d done it yourself!” Ariadne said.

“They were a present for Mal, alright? And it was very tastefully done!” Dom insisted defensively while Yusuf and Eames sniggered, and Ariadne stared at him with scandalous glee.

“Do you still have them?” She asked.

“None of your business.” Dom said.

“Did she like them?” Yusuf asked.

“I bet she did. Mal was devious like that.” Eames contributed, and for a moment there was an air of reminiscence that to Arthur seemed entirely absurd what with the topic and the fact that Ariadne and Yusuf had never even met Mal.

“Alright, my turn.” Dom said, blessedly changing the topic. He reached out for a paper slip out of the nearest bowl, which happened to be the truth bowl.

“Arthur. Would you rather lose your sex organs forever or gain 200 pounds?” Dom asked seriously and everyone laughed far harder than the question merited.

“Oh no! What will he choose? How will he survive without his bespoke suits?” Ariadne mock gasped. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“I’ll pick the first, thank you.” He said, not even having to consider it. Although it might potentially make going to the bathroom difficult, he supposed.

“What? But, but… your _sex organs_.” Yusuf said, as though Arthur might not have heard properly.

“If anything, that will improve the line of my suit.” Arthur said unconcernedly, which earned him a weak chuckle.

“You’re a crazy man.” Yusuf said. While they seemed a bit shocked – more so than Arthur felt was really necessary – no one seemed inclined to ask any in depth questions about his choice, thankfully. To keep it that way, Arthur reached out to pick a dare. He almost addressed Eames with it, but then chickened out at the last moment.

“Ariadne. Attempt to do a magic trick.” Arthur said.

“Ooh, good one!” Eames called, which emboldened Arthur far more than it should have, all things considered. Ariadne made frustrated faces as she tried to think of a magic trick she could do. Then she lighted up with an idea.

“Alright, watch this!” She said. She dramatically held up her left hand and with a look of great concentration forced her thumb and index finger together until they formed a circle.

“Ha!” She exclaimed triumphantly as they touched, which startled a laugh out of Dom and Yusuf. She then held up her right hand and proceeded to do the same, going so far so as to sticking out her tongue in concentration. A new ‘ha’ upon her success had even Arthur chuckling a bit.

She made sure that every one of them had seen the two circles her fingers made, showing them each individually, before she raised her hands over her head and put them behind her head.

“Are you ready? Okay! Abracadabra!” She said and pulled her hands back in front of her, only now the two circles of her fingers were interconnected, locked with one another. It was so ridiculous that they all broke down in helpless laughter and clapped for her. She bowed theatrically a couple of times, grinning herself.

“Thank you, thank you. Now enough of this silliness. Eames, you know it’s coming.” Ariadne said, grinning devilishly as she reached out for the bowl of dares. The energy of the room changed palpably with her words, Dom and Yusuf both leaning a little forward, a sort of anticipatory tension running through the room. It made Arthur uneasy.

Just because the last dare had been innocent enough didn’t mean that they all were. The image of Yusuf in that brief moment Arthur had looked came back to him and made him shutter in disgust. He wasn’t sure how he would deal with Eames having a sex-related dare, especially not considering the conversation Arthur still had to have with him.

It shouldn’t matter, Arthur knew. It was just a silly dare. And it wasn’t like he expected Eames to change his own sexuality to match Arthur’s – hell, he didn’t even expect Eames to want to co-exist with Arthur’s in a relationship – but it would somehow seem like an ill omen for the conversation to come. And Arthur wasn’t superstitious, he wasn’t, except sometimes he was when it mattered as much as this did.

Arthur was drawn back to the present by something wet hitting his leg.

“Shit, sorry!” Yusuf said, hastily mopping up the drink he’d apparently spilled. Arthur shifted away, a little too aware of the now diminished space between him and Eames, but he didn’t want his suit entirely ruined.

“You alright, mate?” Eames asked Yusuf, clearly puzzled by the chemist’s uncharacteristic clumsiness.

“Yes, sorry, it just slipped my grasp.” He said. Eames looked dubiously at him.

“Sorry about your suit leg, Arthur.” Yusuf said. Arthur didn’t know what to say to that.

“It’s fine.” Was what he ended up with. There was no reason to pick fights.

“Alright, if everyone is okay, I’ll just read the dare, shall I?” Ariadne asked, calling their attention back to the game.

“Go ahead.” Eames said graciously, focusing on his upcoming dare. Ariadne looked down at the paper and giggled.

“Make out with the person on your right.” She said. Yusuf and Dom were making some sort of noise. Eames was turning towards him. And Arthur just sat there, not comprehending what was going on.

And then Eames was there, in his face, _on _his face, pressing wet lips against Arthur’s and was that a _tongue??_, and Arthur couldn’t help it. He flinched away in instinctive disgust.

There was a second where everyone was frozen. Eames stared at Arthur and Arthur stared at Eames, incapable of looking anything other than was he was feeling, and Arthur could sense the way the rest of the team was staring at them too. But Arthur couldn’t do anything, couldn’t say anything, could only think on a loop ‘no, this wasn’t how it was meant to go’. Eames’ expression shut down.

“Right. I’ll just. Be somewhere. Excuse me.” He said, and then he was gone. And Arthur just sat there, like a complete idiot, frozen.

“What. The. Fuck.” Ariadne said.

“Arthur? Are you alright, mate?” Yusuf asked apprehensively. Arthur nodded or shook his head, he wasn’t sure.

“What was that, Arthur? We gave you the perfect opportunity!” Dom said. Arthur frowned, feeling exceptionally slow.

“What?” He asked dazedly.

“We finally got him to kiss you, what were you doing? Why didn’t you kiss him back?” Ariadne supplied.

“Got him to kiss me?” Arthur asked, something about the phrasing getting through the haziness of his thoughts.

“You’ve been all miserable since Christmas, it was unbearable!” Ariadne said.

“So you, what? You… orchestrated that? You set us up?” Arthur asked, anger stirring in him.

“Yes! All that tension between you, you needed to get it out of your systems.” Yusuf said. Arthur felt himself growing angrier.

“So. You made a dare specifically for Eames to kiss me and then, what? We’d live happily ever after?” He demanded.

“Well, that would be nice, but we weren’t aiming for ever after. We were just going to give you an excuse to… let nature take it’s course, let’s say.” Yusuf said.

“Nature.” Arthur echoed hollowly.

“Exactly.” Yusuf agreed.

“Right. Well, that worked out great. Thanks a lot.” Arthur said, letting his anger carry him to his feet and out of the room, ignoring the people behind him.

His anger lasted him into the small bathroom across the hallway, where he shut the door behind him and paced back and forth.

He’d had a plan. He was finally going to talk to Eames, clear up the mistakes and tell him how he felt. He had been so close. It would be a miracle if Eames would even look at him now.

And the really stupid part was that he didn’t _necessarily_ mind kissing, if he was prepared, if his partner knew not to expect or press for anything more, if their tongues were kept well out of it, if it was brief. If he hadn’t frozen like he did, he could probably, maybe, have kept the kiss chaste and then he wouldn’t be in this mess. He could at least still have talked to Eames like he’d planned.

If only he’d kept his head cool. If only things had been different. If only it hadn’t happened at all.

And what the hell had the rest of the team been thinking? When had he ever given the impression that he wanted to be set up? What the hell?

Arthur slumped against the tiled wall, feeling abruptly tired. He knew what they had been thinking: they’d pretty much said it. That if they kissed, they’d be overwhelmed with passion and sort themselves out, because that was the natural way to react to kissing the person you were in love with: you wanted more. Hell, when Yusuf had done his little dance of human life, he’d included it. Because wanting sex – wanting to procreate – was something all living creatures had in common. Right?

Why did he have to be different? Why couldn’t he just be normal? He’d ruined everything. Eames wouldn’t want anything to do with him now. Why did he have to be so stupid? Why, why, why, why?

Arthur hated that he couldn’t be like everyone else, and when people talked about it like that – get it out of your systems, let nature take its course – it made Arthur feel so small and just, stupid. Why couldn’t he just get it? If he could have just gotten it, he could have been with Eames now.

Arthur didn’t realize that he was pretty much sitting on the floor sobbing until someone knocked on the door.

“Not now.” He called out, unable to hide the way his voice quivered. Hadn’t they done enough? Hadn’t he been humiliated enough already?

“Arthur?” The hesitant voice made Arthur’s head snap up to stare at the door.

“Darling, can I come in?” Eames sounded very careful. Arthur’s voice seemed to have disappeared, because out of everyone who could have knocked, Eames was about the last he’d have expected.

He knew he should say yes, but he still couldn’t find his voice. Then the door opened, just a little, and Eames looked in, finding him sitting there on the floor, eyes wide and cheeks wet. Arthur felt childish and stupid and quickly looked down and away. He heard the door close and thought for a moment that Eames had left, but then the forger sat down next to him, careful about not touching him.

“I thought you’d gone.” Arthur managed to say.

“I was going to, but then I heard you. And I guess I couldn’t let you be so miserable, even if you… even if you don’t want me.” Eames said, sounding a little brittle. Arthur swallowed, realizing with a start that he’d somehow been given a second chance of making amends.

“No! I, Eames. It’s not that I don’t want you, it’s that I don’t. Eames, I like you, so much. It’s because I’m so stupid, I just…” To his horror he was crying again, and Eames looked alarmed. Then the forger carefully put an arm around Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur pretty much clung to him, unable to say anything for the stupid tears. God, what was he, five years old? This was so embarrassing.

“Hey shush, darling. Breathe, come on. Just breathe. I’m not going anywhere, not until we’ve talked. Just take a big breath for me, that’s it.” Eames was rubbing circles into Arthur’s shoulder and keeping up a string of soothing nonsense until Arthur calmed down a little.

“I’m so sorry, Eames. I had a plan. I was going to talk to you tonight. And then they set us up, and I ruined everything!” Arthur sniffled, trying to get a hold of himself again, which was a lot easier said than done. It was ridiculous. He was the premiere point man in dream share, and here he was, acting like a child, unable to pull himself together.

“What do you mean, they set us up? It was just stupid game.” Eames said. Of course the thief would zero in on that, Arthur thought. But then, he’d been the same way earlier.

“Apparently the others got it into their heads that if they could get us kissing, it would solve all our problems.” Arthur said wryly, only hiccupping a little bit as he took another steadying breathe. Eames was silent for a while.

“Why didn’t it? I don’t mean to sound accusing. I just… I guess I thought that you might be interested in me too, and maybe if we could just do something instead of whatever was going on before, then maybe… but clearly I was wrong.” Eames said, clearly fighting for his own calm. Arthur swallowed. Here they were. This was his chance. He just had to make himself say it.

“Look, Eames. I like you. I really like you. I mean, I’m in love with you.” Arthur said in a rush and immediately felt himself blush. Eames face was a picture, though, hope and confusion and delight warring in his eyes.

“Darling!” Eames exclaimed. Arthur looked away before Eames got any ideas to try and kiss him again. Besides, this would probably be easier to say if he didn’t have to look at Eames.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. The thing is. I might be in love with you, but I don’t want to have sex with you. It’s not you! It’s just the way I am, with everybody, I mean. I don’t want to have sex with anybody, ever. And I’m sorry, I really am. I wish I could be better or just, you know, be what you wanted, but I can’t, and I am so, so sorry.” Arthur said, daring to look at Eames. Eames looked like he’d just had his eureka moment, but he also looked a bit angry, so Arthur instinctively tried to make himself smaller.

“Darling. Are you asexual?” Eames asked, his voice forcefully even.

“I’m sorry.” Arthur said. Eames huffed angrily.

“Jesus Christ. I could just punch whoever made you think that’s something you have to apologize for. Fucking hell. Darling, please look at me.” The last was added in a much softer tone of voice, and Arthur was bewildered enough by this turn of events that he did as Eames asked.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. And you are exactly what I want. Just as you are. I don’t need to have sex with you, not if you’re not into that.” Eames said.

It was so unexpected; Arthur had no idea what to say or how to react.

“Are you sure? I mean. I’m not going to change my mind. I’m not just holding out for the right guy. This is how I am. I won’t want sex with you, ever.” Arthur said.

“And I won’t ask you to, ever.” Eames said firmly.

“But… what do you want from me?” Arthur asked, still confused by everything that was going on.

“Well. Provided that you meant what you said, that you like me too, then I guess I’d like to go on dates with you. And eventually I’d like to be in a relationship with you. You see darling, I’m in love with you too.” Eames said. There was no two ways about it: Arthur’s heart skipped a beat.

“You are?” He couldn’t help but ask, a little breathlessly.

“I am. Darling, how could I not be? You’re so brilliant and beautiful and funny, and you take care of everyone around you. How could I not fall in love with that?” Eames asked. Arthur blushed furiously and looked down. Christ, he really was five years old.

“I’d really like to kiss you, but given your reaction earlier, I’m guessing that’s a no-go?” Eames asked, sounding surprisingly like he didn’t actually mind all that much. Suddenly it all felt real to Arthur, that Eames meant what he was saying: that they actually stood a chance of having a relationship, impossible though it sounded.

“It can be okay. If I know it’s coming, and no tongue or anything like that. It’s not, well, it’s not arousing to me, and it makes me… uncomfortable, I guess, when I feel like that’s the point, like I’m failing or like I’m being pressured, or something. And honestly, kissing isn’t really my favorite activity.” Arthur said, both embarrassed and afraid that Eames wouldn’t be quite so sanguine when faced with the reality of Arthur’s lack of sexual attraction.

“That’s alright, darling, that’s why I asked. What is your favorite activity?” Eames asked instead, sounding curious and not at all like he was about to change his mind about wanting Arthur.

“I suppose, cuddling? Not that I’ve had much chance to try it out. But like, that’s what I imagine, when I think about having a partner.” Arthur said, feeling so very young, which considering his decade long career in crime was a little absurd. Also, he should have had a relationship before this, he was thirty one, who the hell hadn’t even had a boyfriend at thirty one?

“Stop. Whatever self-deprecating thing you’re thinking, you need to stop it right now.” Eames said firmly. Arthur startled a bit at having been so easily read. Eames smiled at him.

“Cuddling sounds absolutely wonderful, darling. I’d love to cuddle with you, anytime.” Eames said. Arthur looked at him, feeling overwhelmed by the gentleness and care in Eames’ expression.

“I’m probably not going to be very good at this.” Arthur said, looking down.

“At what? Cuddling? It’s just like this.” Eames said, pulling Arthur closed to him from where they’d been sitting apart. And it did feel easy to lean into Eames, who smelled nice and was just as warm as Arthur had thought.

“At the whole relationship thing. I’ve never done it before. No one’s wanted to.” Arthur confessed. Eames tightened his hold.

“You should make me a list of all the arseholes who’s been a part of making you think that there’s anything wrong with you. Then I’ll go beat them all up, one at a time.” Eames said fiercely. Arthur chuckled mirthlessly into Eames chest.

“It’s a long list.” He muttered.

“I’ll do it.” Eames promised. It was an unrealistic promise, but it warmed Arthur all the same.

“I don’t think most of them meant to, you know? It’s just that a lot of people don’t understand. It’s like, you’re gay, or straight, or bi, but you’re _something_. So when you’re not, it’s pretty much incomprehensible to them. And it is weird, I guess.” Arthur said.

“No, it’s not. It’s not any weirder than anything else. And making anybody feel like shit because of the way they’re born is never okay.” Eames said. Arthur wasn’t really sure what he should say to that, so he didn’t say anything. Eames sighed.

“I’ll make you believe it eventually. For now, what do you say we get off this floor and get you home?” He asked.

“Yeah, alright.” Arthur said, feeling stiff and tired. He allowed Eames to help him to his feet and caught a look at himself in the mirror above the sink.

“Shit.” He muttered. Eames chuckled a bit.

“I’ll admit, it’s not your best look.” Eames said as Arthur walked over to the sink and washed his face as best he could to erase the tear tracks. There wasn’t much he could do about the blotchiness, even if the cold water did feel a bit soothing on his skin. He turned the faucets off and then stood there for a moment, trying to gather the mental strength to leave the toilet.

And then Eames was there, a hand rubbing between his shoulder blades.

“It’ll be alright. We’ll just get out of here. You don’t have to say anything to them yet.” Eames said, correctly guessing the reason for Arthur’s hesitation.

“I don’t even know what I’d say.” Arthur said.

“I have some choice words. But not tonight. There’s been rather enough drama for one night, I think.” Eames said, which made Arthur smile a bit, which in turn made Eames beam at him. It took Arthur’s breath away.

“I still can’t believe this is real.” He muttered.

“It is. I love you. You love me. Everything else will sort itself out. You’ll see.” Eames said, and Arthur let himself be reassured and followed Eames out and away from the house.

Arthur wasn’t sure what time it was, if it was after midnight or not, but as they sat in the cab they were holding hands like a New Year’s kiss, and Arthur felt like this year was going to bring amazing things with it.

_The end_

**Author's Note:**

> That’s it! I hope you enjoyed it. I considered writing the confrontation between Eames and Arthur and the team, but ultimately I didn’t feel like it would add anything new to the story. Obviously they had good intentions and didn’t know about Arthur’s orientation, and they’re likely to feel very bad and grovel very hard and think twice about assuming anybody’s sexuality in the future. Eames will get to be a boss about people’s right to their own sexuality again, and Arthur will feel bolstered. The job will go off without a hitch, and then Eames and Arthur will take a break to explore what it means to be in a safe and loving ace relationship, and they’ll live happily ever after  
Please remember to go check out[ Rainbyotes’ amazing ace-positive art! ](rainbyotes.tumblr.com/post/186678770538/booze)  
I imagine that that’s what Arthur will be drinking when he’s lying on some beach on a vacation with Eames, tanning in the sun, eating lots of delicious seafood and going for swims together. 
> 
> Also, for reference, I used these two databases for truth/dare questions, because I would have agonized over them forever if I’d had to come up with them myself.  
https://conversationstartersworld.com/truth-dare-questions/#dares  
https://hobbylark.com/party-games/truth-or-dare-questions  
The finger magic trick I have from a beloved old Danish comedian, Dirch Passer. The whole routine is far more involved than what I wrote. I highly recommend watching it – no knowledge of Danish is required:  
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EKeeEHEytg8


End file.
